Page 119 of Catfish

And mission accomplished, folks.

Leaning back in my hard plastic chair, I glance up to find Wade striding in my direction. My body seizes in self-awareness as those blue eyes locked on me.

I can't tell if he's still pissed at my tricking him or if he's just being himself, but I don't have time to guess.

Rising from my seat, I meet him with my arms crossed over my chest. “Nice shot.”

I have no idea how many pins he knocked down.

He frowns. “Are you...crying? What happe—”

“Mr. Governor,” my secret, newly employed accomplice bellows as he stands next to me. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.” He holds out his hand for Wade to shake, which he does, then my boss looks at me.

My face is as innocent as the day I was born.

“Miss Shelton, did someone say something to you?” He quickly glances around behind me. “

“We’re so happy you could make it,” my friend continues.

Wade reluctantly glances back at him. “Thank you, Mr…”

“Hurmon,” he replies. “But you can just call me Paul. Can I buy you a beer—or maybe one of those fancy drinks?”

“Uh, a beer is fine. Thank you, Mr. Hur—”

"Paul. Let me make my shot, and I'll go grab you a draft." He scoots out of the way, and Wade brings his attention back to me.

“Are you okay?”

I furrow my brows in innocence. “Absolutely.”

“Why were—“

“Did Emmy go over the dinner options with you yet?” He looks thrown off by my normal question then plasters his sullen face back on.

"Yes, we decided to go with the filet mignon, parmesan chicken, and—I don't remember the rest."

"Good choices. Just circle what you want me to do for the fundraiser, and I'll follow up with Em on everything." He gapes at me, more like studies, and I feel squeamish under his focus.

If he were anyone else...this would be so much more entertaining.

“How long does this event go on for?” he asks me.

I sigh, crossing my arms. “Are you trying to leave already?”

“Why is someone always asking me that?” His jaw tenses. “And no, I just wanted to know so that I could order us, whatever it is, they serve here.”

I jerk my thumb behind me and towards the snack bar. “If you’re hungry, I can go get us—”

“Didn’t I just offer to go grab us something to eat?” he digresses with that normal annoyed tone.

“Yes, but—“

“I’m assuming pizza or a burger is okay with you?”

“Sure.”

His brows knit. “What’s wrong now?”

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